


prompt#1: Lovelee Dae (The Disclosure Project Remix)

by slexenskee (Sambomaster)



Series: affelaye series [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Time Travel, Tumblr Prompt, crawlersout!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 09:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16060160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sambomaster/pseuds/slexenskee
Summary: Tumblr prompt for Crawlersout: do you think you'd ever write about tom from crawlersout accidentally ending up at canon harry's timeline or something like that? and her (crawlersout!harry) having to go get him back?





	prompt#1: Lovelee Dae (The Disclosure Project Remix)

**Author's Note:**

> hi yea this got a little too long to post on tumblr so I posted it here. Not sure if this was what anon meant, but here it is!

 

Harry finds herself exhausted after a morning of endless meetings and poor sleep. The back to back meetings all morning were a bit unavoidable and not really anyone’s fault, but the sleep was most assuredly Tom’s fault. 

 

Harry wasn’t entirely sure what was wrong with him; he always liked to sleep near her, but never like this. His usual sleeping habits include curling up in a small ball somewhere in her near vicinity, not moving much until early in the morning. At this point he usually stretches out some, rolls over once or twice, and ends up on his stomach by dawn, drooling all over the sheets. His sleeping habits are so predictable Harry can tell what kind of day he’s had depending on when he decides to roll over. Lately though, he’s taken to sleeping basically on top of her, sprawled on her chest, or using her arm as his personal teddy bear, all but wrapped around it. She’s not really sure what these new habits mean, especially when he’s once again pulling that stoic routine of subdued impassivity.  

 

Coupled with the looming end of the quarter, and Harry feels like she’s turned into one of his dead things in the interim of the week. She staggers home like some kind of zombie, almost falling face first when she floos back home. It’s her lunch break, and she wants to check up on the boy and hopefully spend some time with him. They haven’t had much opportunity to do that recently, what with her unfortunate hours. She’ll wrangle more PTO out of HR if it kills her after all this trouble. 

 

“Tom?” She calls, groggily. The house is a cool reprieve from the muggy summer air outside, and Harry feels herself coming alive with a nice cold burst of air. “Tom?” She calls again.

 

She peers around the floor. Nothing.

 

This in and of itself is no cause for concern; often times Tom is up in the library, or even at the desk in his room. Or if he was in need of a break from his endless studying, he would be out in the yard entertaining Spot. When she rounds the bend, she doesn’t see him outside, and usually at this point he’d at least shout to let her know he was around. 

 

He could be outside exploring, she supposed. She wasn’t too concerned. Not yet, anyway. 

 

Then she sees the mantle on the fireplace. The hideous elephant statue Hermione had given her as a souvenir from India has been moved from its spot on the mantle, and is instead on the end table nearby. The runes it usually hides are glowing.

 

Oh dear.  

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Tom makes a valiant effort not to be frightened. But he is. Very frightened. 

 

This is Boston, but it isn’t. Some of the skyline seems familiar, but the rest of it is wholly overshadowed by colossal steel empires, looming over him like wrathful gods of metal. And the  _ noise.  _ There are people everywhere, fancy automobiles, planes in the sky. He’s so overwhelmed he runs back into the safety of the house, hides in the back of the living room and counts to ten. Then he promptly berates himself for being such a baby; he’s eleven years-old! He’s too young to be cowering in corners, trying to pretend the things he’s seeing aren’t real. 

 

With his threadbare bravery he exits the house, summoning up as much courage as possible in order to keep a straight face. If he doesn’t, he’s worried he might just break down into tears. The prospect is horrifying, so he forces himself to walk down the steps of their townhouse and into this unfamiliar world. 

 

He’d finally done it. He’d seen Harry disappear into the floo before, using some strange runes hidden on the mantle beneath a statue of an elephant. He’d always noticed she never said an address when she disappeared for work; he assumed it was a spell of some kind. But now he was curious; he was  _ always  _ curious about where she goes, because she never tells him anything. So one day while she was out at work, he decided to try it. 

 

He deeply regrets that decision now.

 

At any rate, he’s sat in their house for hours, hoping Harry might come back, but he knows there’s nothing for him there. Even Spot is gone. And the house looks… different. Some of the furniture is there, some of it isn’t. His bedroom isn’t his bedroom anymore; it’s a half-storage room full of a truly boggling amount of clothes, and boxes that he can’t open. There’s no point in waiting around there, frightened and alone. 

 

He needs to find Harry, so he goes to the only concrete place he knows; the John Hancock building. It’s the tallest and most iconic building in the Boston skyline, and he breathes a sigh of relief when he sees it still where he remembers it to be. At least that hadn’t changed. However, now it is surrounded by constituents of equal grandeur and size, no longer sticking out like some sort of beacon of futuristic metropolism. 

 

He feels very silly when he enters the grand, opulent lobby. Everything is so shiny and made of marble and glass, the people all much older than him, dressed in fine workwear. All the people turn to stare at him as he enters. He feels much like a poor and dirty street orphan once again, and he hates it. 

 

Heedless of his own discomfort, he steels his nerves and walks to the elevator hall, before realizing that he doesn’t know where he’s going, much less which elevator to take. On the far wall of the elevator hall is a big glass screen. He watches with awe and disbelief as a woman walks up to it,  _ puts her finger on it,  _ and things begin to move. He’s never seen magic like that before. And he thought Harry worked in the non-magical world? He walks up to it after the lady is done, pressing his hand against it. A wide smile of pure fascination lights up on his face as the screen changes. It seems to change depending on what he presses. It’s only after he’s played with it for a few minutes that he realizes it’s a directory of some kind. Perfect! Now he’ll be able to find which floor Harry is on.

 

He scans the titles. There are a truly boggling amount. A growing sense of dread drops in his stomach when he realizes he has no idea where Harry  _ works.  _ Sure, she works in this building, but a lot of people work here, for a lot of different companies. What company does she work for? 

 

“Um, excuse me little boy,” Tom turns around, annoyed. A tall man in a crisp suit stares down at him. He looks at Tom mildly. “Are you lost?”

 

He’s affronted by the suggestion, before realizing it’s pointless because he really is truly lost. He eyes the man cautiously. Adults are awful creatures. They always think they know what’s best, and they never listen to anything he says. That being said, he knows there are certain ways to handle them in order to get what he wants, and he thinks he knows  _ exactly  _ how to play this.

 

“Yes, I am.” He says, with big, sad eyes. “I lost my guardian and I don’t know what to do.”

 

Like clockwork, a look of sympathy crosses the man’s eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you know where she works?”

 

“No…” He shakes his head sadly. “I just know she works for a bank.”

 

“A bank?” He repeats, frowning. He looks over towards the big moving screen, and taps his fingers against it in a practiced manner. Tom watches with interest as he seems to manipulate the magic with ease. “Hmm, well, there are a few of them in here… Do you happen to know the name of the bank?”

 

He digs through his memories, to no avail. “No, sir, I’m afraid I don’t.” Then he blinks, a thought occurring to him. “But— I know she works in investing!”

 

“Oh! Investment, you say?”

 

“Yes, the investment department of a big bank. She says she works to help little companies become big companies.” He elaborates, scrounging up all the sparse information he knows about her job. “ _ Technology  _ companies.” 

 

Fortunately, realization lights in the man’s eyes. “ _ Oh. _ Venture capital, hmm? Well there are a few firms in the building, but it sounds like you’re talking about the venture arm of a larger bank. I think I know the one.”

 

He ushers Tom into the elevator, and then swipes a badge on a pad off to the side and presses the button for the twentieth floor. Tom eyes the keypad warily. There are  _ a lot  _ of floors. It’s a good thing he got help, because there’s no way he could search them all on his own. 

 

It’s a very fast elevator. They’re on the twentieth floor in no time, exiting into a sleek lobby made of glass. It’s all very fancy and posh. 

 

The man waltzes up to the front desk. “Donna! How are you?”

 

“Dying in slow increments.” The woman replies, without missing a beat. She smiles then. “How can I help you Steve?”

 

Steve chuckles, and gestures to Tom. “We have a lost child in the building. He says his guardian works somewhere in here at a venture capital firm. I was hoping it was this one.”

 

“A child?” She stands from her seat, peering over at him.

 

Tom puts on his best, winsome smile. “Yes ma’am, I’m really sorry for all the trouble.” He says shyly, blinking his big eyes. She all but coos at the sight of him. 

 

“I’m so sorry sweetie. Don’t worry, we’ll find your guardian for sure. What’s his name?”

 

“ _ Her  _ name,” Tom corrects. “And it’s Harry Potter.”

 

Recognition lights in her eyes. “Oh, Harry! Yes of course. I’m not sure where she is right this minute, but I’ll take you to her desk.”

 

‘Donna’ leads him down beautiful clean hallways with stunning views of the foreign city below them. They’re so high up he wants to rush to the long floor to ceiling windows and press his nose up against them, but he also really wants to find Harry, so he dutifully follows the receptionist. He stares openly at everyone they pass, and they all stare back. They all dress like Harry, he notices. He always thought she dressed funny, and not like all the other women he knew, but now he realizes there are a lot of people who dress like her. 

 

He wants to stare into every cubicle and break room they pass. There’s just so many strange things to see. Then he looks around and realizes he’s lost Donna; he follows the click of her heels down the tile, to a desk that is, to his dismay, very empty.

 

Donna frowns at it, then turns to a woman in the cube over. “Maddie, do you know where Harry went to?”

 

“Harry?” The new woman blinks. “I think you just missed her. She went out to lunch.”

 

Donna sighs. “Well, could you ping her and let her know this little boy is looking for her? She’s his guardian and he’s lost.”

 

“Guardian…?” The pretty blonde repeats. Her eyes drift down towards him. “Are you— Tom?” 

 

He blinks, surprised she knows his name. He nods numbly.

 

“Why don’t you sit here Tom,” Donna holds out the chair for him. “Harry will be back soon.”

 

Tom doesn’t know what else to do, so he sits in the chair and nearly leaps off of it when it  _ rolls.  _ He looks down. It has wheels! This is the coolest thing ever! He may or may not spend a few minutes just playing around in it, spinning himself in circles until he gets dizzy. 

 

“—too old to be her son.” He looks up at the hushed voice, seeing the blonde bob of Harry’s coworker half hidden by a partition, a little ways down the hall. She appears to be talking to someone.

 

“Yeah, totally.” Another voice responds, lowly. It’s another girl, with  _ pink  _ hair, long and curling over her shoulders in the same style Harry wears often. “A little brother then?”

 

“She doesn’t have siblings.” The blonde— Maddie— replies. 

 

The pink haired girl’s eyes light up. “Secret love child!”

 

“You just agreed he’s too old.” Maddie points out. 

 

“—of a secret lover.” The other woman finishes, enthusiastic. “They’re raising him as their own.”

 

Tom almost scoffs aloud. 

 

“Good god Lauren, this is how terrible rumors get started.” Maddie rolls her eyes. Then she ducks down with a sly grin, “and anyway, I thought you said Harry was secretly shacking up with Josh from accounting?”

 

“Maybe it’s  _ both _ .” Lauren gushes, wagging her eyebrows. 

 

“Harry? Never!” 

 

“It’s always the calm ones,” Lauren refutes, shaking out her blossom colored hair. Tom wonders if she’s an elf or something. Humans don’t normally have hair that color, he’s pretty sure. “They always have the best secrets. I didn’t even know she had a son!”

 

“He said she was his guardian.” Maddie corrects, shrugging. “That could mean a lot of things. Maybe a cousin? Maybe there's no relation at all? She's always been vague about that.” 

 

“Where does she even find the time for childcare?” Lauren wonders aloud, sighing. “If I don’t finish this expense report by today, Sam will  _ light me on fire.  _ And that’s to say nothing of my inbox. The proposal team is slaying me right now.”

 

“It’s called time management— maybe you should try it sometime.” Maddie teases.

 

“You tell that to my twins and their deadbeat dad. I am  _ so  _ glad I never married him.” 

 

“Yeah, you don’t want to be caught up in a divorce without a pre-nup.” The blonde agrees sagely. She leans in closer again, “ _ Oh,  _ did you hear about Sasha?”

 

“No,” Lauren gasps, also leaning close. “What? Did they break up? Oh my god, he was cheating on her, wasn’t she. I  _ knew  _ he had a sugar baby somewhere— ”

 

Tom rolls his eyes, and turns away as they start gossiping about other coworkers besides Harry. It seems no matter how old, or how wildly hair-colored, girls are always all about the drama. 

 

He instead turns his attention to Harry’s desk. It’s as clean and organized as he expects it to be. He’s surprised to see a photo of him and Harry on her desk, even though he supposes he shouldn’t be. It was taken on Coney Island, the last time they had went. In it, Harry beams brightly with a teddy bear she’d won ostensibly for him despite his adamant refusal, and he’s holding a pretzel looking decidedly less pleased with life. It’s not really that photo that catches his eye, though. It’s all the other ones around it. 

 

They’re just like the ones at home— beautiful, glossy, in full color. He’d always assumed it was a magical world thing, but he’s yet to see any photos quite like them. They don’t move like some of the ones on the walls of the townhouse, but they are all just as crisp and bright. In comparison, his photo with Harry looks so strange; grainy, unfocused and stripped of color. 

 

He tears his eyes away, inspecting the rest of her desk. There are a lot of little notes in Harry’s long, looping scrawl; a holder of pens; a big metal rectangle propped up on a metal stand takes center stage. It’s all black though. He taps it. Nothing happens. Maybe it’s not the same as the metal board downstairs? He turns his attention to the board above it. It looks like a chalkboard, but it’s white and shiny, and there’s no chalk. Instead there are what look to be thick fountain pens. Instead of ink though, they wrote in color. He pulls the cap off of one; he reared back immediately. It smells  _ awful. _ But when he puts it on the smooth white surface, it writes in the same color as the cap. He accidentally draws a long blue line through some of the words on the board. He hopes they weren’t important, but they made no sense anyway, and it was already a mess of circles and arrows. He stares at them incredulously. _Automation and Orchestration_ _. NoSQL Scale. Vertical SaaS Integration.  _ Maybe they were spells of some kind? But what kind of spells? What do they do? 

 

_ “Tom!”  _

 

He startles abruptly. A redheaded blur rushes at him, scooping him up into her arms. 

 

“Holy hell Tom, I was  _ so _ scared.” Harry breathes, sounding hysterical and out of breath. She squeezes him so tightly he can’t breathe. 

 

Tom doesn’t know what to say. He’s not sure if he had ever planned what he was going to say to her, but even if he had, he can’t remember anything. All he feels is guilty for making her worry.

 

“...Sorry.”

 

“What are you even doing here? How did you get here?” Harry asks, frantically, as she pulls away a bit. 

 

Tom blinks. “I used the floo, just like you do.” He says simply. Harry looks around furtively, before she pulls out her wand and quickly casts a muffling charm. She pockets it quickly. Fortunately her two coworkers were still too busy gossiping to notice she was back. 

 

“How did you— but how did you get  _ here _ ?”

 

“You told me you worked in this building.” Tom replies, simply. “And the house was really strange when I got out of the floo— it looked all different. And you weren’t there. I waited, but you didn’t come home. So I went looking for you.”

 

Harry’s expression is difficult to read. Finally she sighs. “ _ Oh,  _ Tom.” 

 

Tom looks around. Harry’s cube backs up to the big windows, giving an expansive look of Boston unfurling beneath them. He can even see the river from this high up. “Harry, where are we?” He asks, turning back to her.  

 

“We’re— “ Harry pauses. She seems to be fighting for words. She looks away, placing her bag on her desk. Then she hops on it, looking defeated. She casts another spell wordlessly— a  _ notice me not _ charm. Despite the situation, Tom is deeply impressed. That’s really hard to do. 

 

Then she turns to him. “We’re in the future, Tom.” 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> (the title has absolutely no meaning. it's just what I happened to be listening to when I wrote this. Which was about 30 minutes, so I'm sure the quality is very poor but my cat is bugging me to play with her stupid string so I'm gonna go do that) 
> 
> (also this is historically innaccurate. The John Hancock building wasn't built until the 70s, but I already mentioned it in crawlersout so whoops)


End file.
